


Doll

by evamalia



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Non-Graphic Smut, Sensory Deprivation, Some Humor, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 21:34:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5106524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evamalia/pseuds/evamalia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The skeleton was doing goodness-knows-what with his body; he had better be enjoying it to the fullest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doll

**Author's Note:**

> Just a drabble I got a bit carried away with when someone sent me a prompt from a kink list and a pairing to go with it. The kink was sensory deprivation, of course.

This wasn't a completely unfamiliar feeling. Far from it in fact. After all, Mettaton wasn't always the perfect specimen he was today. As an incorporeal being, he was quite accustomed to not physically feeling anything at all until he willed it.

But in this situation, it was a bit stranger. This form, his Ex form, was built with the intention of being as human as possible with all five sense intact. Currently, however, his somatosensory and motor systems were turned off - at the request of his partner which he willfully agreed to - and he was blindfolded. The only senses at his disposal that were useful to him were his sense of smell - the air has almost a musky tinge to it - and his sense of hearing. If it weren't for what he could hear, he would assume he was just lying alone in some random place, but that wasn't the case. Soft grunts and groans emanated from somewhere in front of him, undeniably from his current squeeze, Sans.

"Wow," the skeleton breathed, "This is pretty amazing."

Well of course it is, Mettaton thought, inwardly scoffing at the possibility that it would be anything else. The skeleton was doing goodness-knows-what with his body; he had better be enjoying it to the fullest. It always took ridiculous amounts of convincing to get Sans to do anything that wasn't just lying there during sex (quite frankly, he's lucky he's cute) that him giving any kind of suggestions to spice things up was more than welcome.

The only real complaint Mettaton had was that he wished he could feel any of... whatever Sans was doing. Only being able to smell the faint scent of sweat and what he could assume was his own bubblegum-scented lubricant; only getting to hear Sans' delicious moans and praises; only getting to taste the liquid that acted as saliva in his mouth... all of this for what seemed like _hours_ was starting to drive him up the wall of his own mind.

Prior to beginning this exploit, Sans made it quite clear that he did not want to turn off Mettaton's voice, but he did hope that Mettaton wouldn't speak until he was asked to. All this time, Mettaton complied, simply lying there (was he even lying down anymore at this point?) and allowing Sans to have his fun. But it seemed he was at his wits end as he - in a strangely soft voice, he noticed - asked the much smaller pile of bones if he could at least remove the blindfold.

Mettaton heard a low chuckle before his vision was suddenly blinded, the blindfold ripped off him in decisive motion. Once his optics adjusted to not being completely shrouded in darkness by a - apparently baby blue - piece of cloth, he found himself in quite the position: he was set up on a small, round desk table, upright and resting against a wall; his arms were detached, both on the floor on opposite sides of him; his thighs were up and it seemed his feet were locked behind his head; and the casing that held his soul was open: he was utterly exposed. And Sans? Sans was simply sitting in a chair in front of him, grinning like always. His clothes were still on, but it wasn't hard to tell he was incredibly hot and bothered and enjoying every moment of this from the sweat on his brow. Since his hands were slowly rustling underneath his apparel, one in his shorts and one under his shirt, it was pretty blatant that he was rubbing his oh-so sensitive bones with care.

Mettaton had to admit: this was pretty hot. He desperately wanted to feel this; to be able to moan and groan along with Sans; to be able to wiggle about tantalizingly and tease him.

His black lips opened. He wished to request permission to turn the systems he was deprived of back on, but before one sound could slip out, Sans shook his head and took his hand out from under his shirt, placing a phalange to his teeth in a shushing motion.

"Don't forget what you promised me," his voice was husky and seemed nearly breathless. "Just stay my doll for just a little longer, okay?"


End file.
